


Some Unfortunate Slices Of Life

by PeopleOfThePit



Category: In a Heartbeat (Short Film)
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse, conversion therapy, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleOfThePit/pseuds/PeopleOfThePit
Summary: Prompts by Birb, written by Dexter.In which Jonathan's mother is a homophobic two-faced coin and thinks Jonathan can be "cured". I might expand on a few of these a little more. Scenes are unrelated and do not follow any continuity.Trigger Warnings will be indicated in the summary of every chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t think you could look any worse, but you surprise me every day.”

Of course he looked  _ worse,  _ she was the one to have done that in the first place. His hair was a complete mess, having been cut using a blunt kitchen knife, destroying its former integrity and turning it into mess of stray strands and bald spots. He knew every one of them, intimately, as he had spent hours upon hours simply staring into the bathroom mirror, teetering on the edge between disbelief and the deepest melancholy. His symbol, his pride, it was now gone, stripped away like everything else.

He didn’t answer her, simply lowered his eyes back to the ground and headed out for school, something not even bothering tug at his wrinkled uniform for once. What was the point now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I never said you could have the damn food yet, Jonathan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: physical abuse

He froze. He had reached for the bread by reflex, it had not been intentional. He was allowed to take whatever he wanted at the school cafeteria, and unfortunately, it was bleeding into his everyday habits at home. He let go of the loaf, but not quickly enough to avoid the backhand slap. The boy fell out of his chair onto the tiled kitchen floor, dazed, yet still struggling to get up. He knew things were just going to get  worse if he stayed on the ground.

She got up from her chair, walked briskly around the table, and just as Jonathan found his footing and was about to get up, she kicked him in the shins. He fell again, heavily, feeling her smirk directed at him despite not being able to see her, and seconds later felt a goopy mess that was the mashed potatoes that he was supposed to eat land on him, followed by the smash of the plate as it was thrown to the floor beside him.

“ _ Now  _ you can eat.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All you have to do is say you did it, and I’ll let you sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: religious fanatism, nsfw mention

Well, he hadn’t. He was pretty sure about that. As much as he had feelings for Sherwin, he had never wished to engage in such activities. It was not part of their love, it didn’t feel  _ right _ , definitely not at the moment. Avoiding the implicit command, the boy let his eyes fall back to the heavy book of scriptures, trying to force his eyes to stay open and to read the lines of tiny text scrawled across the paper-thin pages. 

“Jonathan.”

Her voice sounded more like a growl now, and he could no longer use the book as an excuse. He looked up, fear striking through him when he caught a flash of her anger-darkened eyes, felt her nails digging into his skin when she caught his chin in her hand and forced him to look up, once again. 

“Jonathan, I repeat the question. Did you engage in unholy activities with another boy?”

He hadn’t. Yet, he still nodded, because at this point there was no  reason to contest her anymore. It would bring only more suffering, so he might as well give her what she wanted, right?

“You dirty, sinful boy. How could have I ever birthed such a horrifying creature, I wonder,” she whispered. She let go of Jonathan’s chin, letting him scramble to his feet and shoot out of the room, tears running down his face. He still loved her. How could she possibly say such things to him, and still pretend to love him back?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For a moment I thought you finally starved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: verbal abuse, neglect

There was laughter underlying her words. She was mocking him, looking down at him from the top of the cellar stairs. He hadn’t been moving for hours, the cold seeping into his body as the boy tried, desperately, to keep himself warm. He hadn’t been allowed a shirt, not this time, and since it was now Spring break, she could afford to keep him locked up for days on end without attracting unwanted attention. Well, he assumed it had been days, anyway. He wasn’t sure, he wasn’t allowed any time keeping devices, nor natural light, either. All he could go by was the amount of emptiness he felt in his stomach and the number of times he had gone to the bucket. 

“W-wha-”

He couldn’t continue, his throat was too parched to speak. He was allowed water, but it was freezing and the icy crust which formed on top had to be broken every time he wanted a drink. In the end, he stopped bothering doing that too. He didn’t have the energy, anyway. 

With a rustle, something fell from the the level where his mother was standing, and something which smelled like fast food struck Jonathan’s nostrils. He quickly snatched at the paper bag, shovelling the fries which it contained into his mouth as quickly as possible, afraid that the much-needed nourishment would be taken away from him on a whim.

“Eat well, ungrateful swine. I hope you choke on those.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, you drifting off again? WAKE UP!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: physical abuse

He did. The shout, accompanied by the subsequent slap, were both enough to get him to concentrate back on his homework. Well, not exactly  _ homework _ , rather extra work which was supposed to make him top of the class. He wasn’t allowed to get anything under an A anymore, wasn’t allowed to learn from his mistakes because he  _ couldn't  _ make mistakes. 

“I’m awake! I’m awake, mom, it’s…”

Another slap silenced him, and with that he let his eyes go back to the textbook in front of him, and started, yet again, trying to memorise mathematical formula that he wouldn’t even be expected to use even in college. It didn’t matter though. This was supposed to help him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All you have to do is say you love me, and you can have the apple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: imprisonment, neglect, verbal and physical abuse

His stomach grumbled in anticipation, and his mouth watered. Since the chains had been installed in the cellar walls, he had not been allowed to leave them. Over time, he had become incredibly weak, weaker than he had ever. He was regularly given water using a needle-less syringe, but he had probably not eaten for at least a week, he supposed. He wasn’t sure. Everything, time, space, seemed warped. Even when his mother entered the cellar every once in a while, he didn’t bother to raise his head to look at her properly. Today, however, things were different. She held the apple in a single hand, the red skin of the fruit reflecting the faint electric light slightly. It would keep him going, Jonathan knew. If he ate the apple, he might be able to keep going for a while longer. 

But he couldn’t. He wanted to open his mouth to say the words that his mother so wanted him to pronounce, but despite being able to speak perfectly, the words remained caught in his throat, incapable of coming out completely. He tried, mouth gaping open again and again, but he couldn’t. Something was hindering him. 

“Well, I might as well leave then… Why should I even bother, of course you don’t love me.”

_ Of course I don’t,  _ was his immediate thought, one which shocked him nearly as much as it would have shocked his mother if she had heard it. But it was right. He didn’t love her anymore. She had abused him in every way possible by now, and it was starting to take a toll. And yet, he was still required to love her despite her despising him so much? He wasn’t sure whether things should work that way, but he could hardly go against her. It was too late.

“Mom!” he shouted, a shout which sounded like it had come from a mouse, but the woman had obviously heard him. She turned slowly, eyes visible even in the low light, boring into the boy who she considered no longer as human.

“Mom, I… I l-love you.”

Her aim was perfect, hitting him smack in the middle of the forehead with the apple, before walking up the stairs again, jabbing a “I love you too, dog,” before slamming the door behind her. Jonathan winced at the sound, but the pain of those few words were gone once he realised he now had some food. With tears of gratefulness brimming in his eyes, he took a bite out of the apple, whispering, as he ate: “Thank you, mom.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You tell me the truth sweetie and you walk out of here to school. It’s that simple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: physical abuse

She had figured it out, of course. She knew school had become his escape, his one place of refuge. Standing in front of the exit, the door out, she loomed above him like a giant, towering and terrifying. The worse thing was that he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

“I’m sorry mom, I-I’m not sure what you…”

“You know exactly what I mean, Jonathan. I’ve heard of your  _ friends.  _ I’ve suspected that that’s where you’ve been meeting… others. Tell me who they are, Jonathan. Tell me what you do exactly.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t accept such accusations. The only interaction he allowed himself to have was speaking with some of the teachers, and sometimes… sometimes, but way to rarely these days, he held Sherwin’s hand. And that, he would never accept as being impure, as badly as his mother wanted him to see it as so. 

“I… I don’t do anything. Please let me go to school.”

He tried pushing past her, but she did not take well to this. With a snarl, she grabbed his hair, yanking at the previously perfectly arranged locks until Jonathan cried out, but this didn’t stop her. Without letting him go, she stomped across the hall, dragging the boy along with her, completely disregarding his pained whimpers and cries. She pulled him through the kitchen, slammed open the cellar door and threw the boy into the cold, damp depths. He tumbled down the stairs, collecting as many bumps and bruises as there were steps and a few more for good measure, and lay, dazed, as the door slammed closed above him and cut off all source of light, leaving him blind in the dwelling of rats.

That was the first time that Jonathan was locked in the cellar. The first of many, many other times, where he was forced to stay alone in the damp darkness and cry himself out until he passed out on the cold floor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, Jonathan, I made breakfast for myself not you. You have food at school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: neglect, drug mentions

On one hand, it was maybe for the best. It wasn’t uncommon for her to spike his food, be it with washing up liquid, any other cleaning agent really, or stuff which made him paranoid beyond belief or made the world warp, twisting everything in a cacophony of colours and lights before passing out. When she did that, even through his delirium he was pretty sure that she stood off to the side, taking notes on a clipboard.

On the other hand though, he was hungry. Impossibly hungry. And of course, he had no money, nothing which would allow him to get anything at the school cafeteria. Sherwin couldn’t get him much, and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to accept it. He was more or less starving too, he couldn’t take what little he had.

Jonathan nodded at his mother though, accepting his lot and stepping out the door, a cramp stronger than the previous paralysing him on the threshold, reminding him of his lack of nourishment, before he moved on down the road, wishing to rejoin the warmth of the school building as quickly as possible. Maybe if he binge-drank water before class, he’d be attentive enough to follow the lesson. Maybe.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you rather not eat or sleep for the next seven days? Or will you be a good boy and stay silent? The choice is yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: burns, attempted sexual assault, drug mention, starvation

It was to be expected, really. He hadn’t been looking forward to the school holidays as many of his peers had, knowing that this was going to be an opportunity that his mother was not willing to miss. In fact, she decided to do something even worse than what he had ever thought possible: instead of staying in the painful, yet at least familiar family home, she had decided that a camping trip for “bonding time” was the best thing to be done. Mainly camping materials were packed, to Jonathan’s surprise, most of which were logical: lighters, gas burners, stakes for the tent and a hammer to drive them into the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure how useful the large hunting knife would be, nor the too-abundant ropes, but he wasn’t about to question his mother’s choices. A small, travel sized Bible was about the only thing which was packed and which was not related to camping, but yet again that was to be expected.

Another thing which was surprising to him was the fact that she didn’t force him to do all the work. She assembled the tent’s armature while he was tasked with hammering the stakes in. The whole while, the prospect of spending over a week in the woods alone with her made him tremble and weakened his aim, which resulted in him bashing his fingers with the tool more than once, but it was ok. Nothing he couldn’t really deal with. 

They then got settled, the single bedroll not bothering Jonathan more than that. He was used to it, and he knew that it was more than likely that he would sleep outside the tent. 

The evening quickly fell, and the gas fire was lit. Beans were cooked over the small, bright blue flame, prayers were said, directed mainly at the woods, it seemed, and they ate. It was quiet, save the clinking of cutlery on plastic bowls, and they were soon finished, sitting across from each other on the plastic mat, the electric lantern casting a dim light over the pair. 

Silence remained for a little longer before it was broken with a soft sigh.

“Jonathan,” the boy’s mother said tiredly, no bitterness eating at her voice, no aggressivity. “Are you-” She paused. “Do you  _ want _ to be cured?”

This… was unusual. She seemed genuine, the way she asked the question didn’t sound like she wanted one answer in particular, as she usually did. Of course, he wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t hold his word against him later on, but Jonathan thought that maybe, if he was genuine right now, she might actually listen to him. She was lucid, for once. Maybe the forest air had opened her mind.

“I… I want to,” Jonathan started off. “I sincerely… I want to. With all my heart. But… I don’t think I  _ can _ .”

Silence fell on the campsite again, no heavier than it had been before. No hits came, no shrieks, nothing. Only the forest sounds and their breathing could be heard in the near-darkness.

“Maybe…” she said weakly. “Maybe… Maybe you just need a woman’s touch.”

She shuffled closer, raising her hand to touch Jonathan’s cheek. For a second, he remained frozen, disbelieving, but as soon as his brain registered what was happening, he jumped to his feet, backing up to the very limits of the circle of light projected by the lantern. 

“Mom, Mom…  _ Mom _ ,” Jonathan shrieked, tears drenching his cheeks and his breath laboured. “Mom,  _ no, please, you’re my  _ **_Mom_ ** _.” _

She hadn’t moved from where she was sitting, her face remaining expressionless for a second, before suddenly something flashed there, realisation at what she had just done. She had stepped over a line, and she knew it. This didn’t last long though, as her face soon turned back to anger, terrifying but yet oddly reassuring in its familiarity. She got to her feet, stomped over to her son and caught his wrist, snarling before slapping him hard enough to make stars appear in his field of vision. 

“You  _ dare _ ,” she hissed. “You disappoint me, Jonathan. This trip was supposed to be  _ good for us _ , and you have to…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. Maybe she was just as confused and scared as he was. Maybe she was angry at herself, not him. But that didn’t change a thing for him. He was now going to receive punishment for his completely natural reaction, and there was nothing he could do to save himself this time over if she decided to force her will on him.

The second slap knocked him even more off balance, nearly losing his senses and missing half of the next sentence: 

“-next seven days? Or will you be a good boy and stay silent? The choice is yours.”

The usual smirk had returned to her voice, the mocking that accompanied her punishments, or, rather, her torture sessions, if he were to be more accurate. She leaned in close, way too close, and again Jonathan panicked. He had no idea what her intentions were, and he would probably never know. In that instant, his brain was scrambled and all he could register was what had nearly happened moments earlier on. He screamed, as loudly as he could, and with all the force he could muster he bit down on the hand imprisoning his wrist. She let go, replying with a screech of her own, and the boy jumped back, running blindly into the forest, crashing through the underbrush, branches and bramble tearing his clothes and skin and tears burning his blind eyes and cheeks, the thoughts tearing through his mind crushing his soul. All the possibilities of what could have been terrified him and made him feel sick to the stomach, and he threw up in the nearest bush, but it didn’t help all that much. In fact, it only resulted in making his rising headache worse, and he soon fell to the forest floor, dizzy and unable to stand up. 

His food had been spiked, obviously. That was only to be expected. This felt like a regular sleeping pill or product though, nothing experimental. He only had time to feel his panic rise for a few seconds, seeing feet approaching at an angry pace before he passed out completely.

He woke up what felt like seconds later with a headache and a sore mouth, ropes rubbing harshly at his forearms and under his knees. 

“Ah, you’re awake. I thought you died. That would have actually been easier, but hey, you’re only here to make my life more difficult, aren’t you now?”

Jonathan woke up enough to become aware of his surroundings, seeing that he was in a tree, attached by the wrists to the branch and held up for the time being solely by a second rope under his knees. He looked down, and immediately panicked, swinging up to rest with his elbows on the branch. if he had not had the rope under his knees holding him up, his feet and legs would have been burned by the gas burner positioned underneath the tree.

“You’re staying here for seven days, Jonathan. That should be enough to make you realise how sinful you are.”

She pulled on another rope, releasing the one holding his knees up; he could now only use his arms to keep his legs from dangling into the blue-hot fire, and he was already trembling from head to toe from exhaustion. 

Needless to say, when Jonathan got back home from that camping trip, he could barely stand, and on several instances had to be carried. His legs were burned and swollen, his body weak and trembling, but out of everything his mind was the most harmed. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why haven’t you started diner yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: slurs, physical abuse

He had barely stepped through the door when he was greeted with her sharp tone. By instinct, Jonathan let his eyes drop to the floor and mumbled out an excuse, any excuse, but he knew that it was in vain. 

“I was doing my homework. I apologise for my misbehaviour, I will not…”

“Yes you will, Jonathan,” she snapped. She got up from her chair, walking briskly over to him and forcing him to back up against the cooker.

“You  _ always _ fuck up. You will  _ always _ be a disappointment, you swine. You never do anything right. Do I have to keep showing you? How much more do I have to do this for you to-” She leaned over him, quickly turning the gas cooker on. “-UNDERSTAND?”

She shouted at him, too close, too loud. She caught his hair, and in a brisk gesture, pulled him down close to the flickering blue flame. Jonathan went deadly immobile, not daring to move as the smell of gas filled his nostrils and made his eyes water, and he felt the searing heat against the skin of his cheeks. 

“Do you want a facial scar now, Jonathan? Would your butt-buddies still want you if you were disfigured?  _ Tell me, Jonathan! _ ”

His mind was blank, revving in a dull whiteness without being able to find any purchase. Suddenly, the pressure on the back of his head released, and he was thrown to the side, head slamming against the tile floor and making stars erupt in his vision. 

“I thought so. Pathetic. Get off the floor, unless you want me to make you lick it clean, and get some food on the table. My patience has limits.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You call this clean?”

The boy pitifully looked back down at the tile, all sparkling clean, the very carefully polished taps and metalwork of exposed pipes… To him, nothing was amiss. Even the ceiling had been carefully cleared of cobwebs and the light had been scrubbed, so it was no longer filtered through a layer of grime. There was little to no dirt between the tiles either, where there had previously been growing abundant amounts of black mold. Of course, that could have been what she had been referring to, but there was a niggling thought in the back of Jonathan’s head, something which told him it was something else.

Slowly, he turned his eyes to the toilet bowl, swallowing thickly as he did. “I’m sorry… I… I really don’t know how to…”

“You do, Jonathan. You know exactly how to clean a toilet.”

That was enough of a threat to get him scuttling to the task, his feet carrying him quickly to the end of the bathroom where she stood waiting, tapping her foot impatiently.

He looked down into the depths of the scummy water, the level raised to the very lip of the bowl. It must have been sitting there for years, as this room had been condemned when they had first moved in, all that time ago.

“Get to it, then!”

She smacked the back of his head, and making him wince in pain and panic slightly when his face was brought way, way too close to the browning sludge. He took a hold of the plunger, looked at up at his mother for a second, before letting his eyes fall again and he got to work clearing the gunk. The piping made alarming noises as he worked as quickly as he could, eager to get it over as quickly as possible. However, his efforts only seemed to stir up the “water” without ever actually clearing the blockage. 

“Jonathan…”

That menacing tone did not bode well. Pushing away the rest of his now muted disgust, he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up as far as it would go and plunged his bare hand into the depths of the sludge. 

He was fortunate enough that he found what his desperate fingers were searching for in a matter of seconds. It felt like fabric, to his surprise, and when he pulled it out, he was indeed greeted with the sight of a pink, if not dirtied, pair of feminine underwear.

“What in…”

They were new. Glancing up at the woman’s knowing smile was all he needed to know that she had indeed done this intentionally. He started trembling when the smile became the tiniest bit wider, the hint of teeth showing. 

“Good enough for today, back to the cellar now.”   
“Mom…”   
He had to.   
“I’ll… I’ll get sick... May I please wash off?”   
The silence was even more sickening than the smell of faeces filling the atmosphere.    
“Sure. Outside, strip and I’ll hose you off.”   
The boy quickly scuttled off, not commenting on the fact that it was currently mid December, and not the warmest of winters. 

Better that than the alternative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. -Dexter


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aw, look who’s an obedient little pet.”

The shock was a little much this time over. It hurt, more than it ever had before, and the smell of burnt keratin filled the air. A shame, that was his warmest jumper, was his only coherent thought as he twitched, then caught his breath again. His mind was desperately trying to block out anything else, pushing the most inane reflections to the forefront of his mind. 

“Jonathan… Look at me.”

He really didn’t want to.

“Jonathan.”

The kneeling boy raised his eyes, the image of his mother coming back to him blurry through one swollen, teared-up eye. 

“Roll over.”

A twinge of electricity made itself known in his neck for a second, more like a kindly caress compared to what he had experienced before, and obeyed, as quickly and gracefully as he could. 

“Aw, look who’s an obedient little pet.”

There was a small thud as something fell to the wooden floorboards, one the boy knew well. He had heard it a million times before, his now nearly sole means of nourishment, his reward.

He reached towards the apple hungrily, gratefully, as he ignored her retreating footsteps and piercing laugh. Only the sweetness of the fruit mattered now. 


End file.
